Secret Thoughts
by photographwall
Summary: Another Fight Club fic, this time from the driver's POV. He yearns after Jack though he doesn't say that to him and all the action happens in a car one night... Disclaimer: Unfortunately Fight Club isn't mine, it belongs to Chuck Palahniuk


Secret Thoughts

I'm driving fast through the rain. This car is faster and better than the cars I usually steal, but this is a special case. A really important one. The space monkeys on the backseat yet have no clue of where we're going or what are we going to do when we get there, but I'm not going to tell them. Besides, they can't ask anything because the last rule of Project Mayhem is "you don't ask questions". But now I don't have time to think about the space monkeys.

I hear how the wheels screech as I turn left and face the parking lot. From the rearview mirror I can see how confused the space monkeys are, so I decide to lighten up the situation a bit.

"We're waiting for someone."

Silence.

"In fact, he's not just someone, he's Tyler Durden and I want you to remember how important person he is. We're waiting for him… and he's the one I baked this cake for", I add with a little embarrassment in my voice and point a finger to a huge, pink cake next to the driver's seat. The space monkeys stay silent, just as I hoped they would.

Then I see him walking towards the car. I open the door, step outside and greet him with my most polite voice.

"How are you, sir?"

He answers to me that he's doing fine, while running fingers through his hair. Gosh, there's a man with some style!

"Do not worry, sir, I changed the licence plates with a car that was left in the airport."

I open the door for him. It might be my bad hearing, but I think he asked me something about Tyler. I decide not to answer so he doesn't think I'm a completely crazy person. In fact, he's the last person I'd ever want to think I'm stupid or otherwise mentally retarded.

I start the car and everyone's silent. I wonder what Mr. Durden is thinking because after a while he glances at me and then quickly turns away. Do I look funny? I have to check that everything's alright. I have shaved, there's no food on my chin, I have taken my earrings off and there's only one bruise on my face… but I guess that wasn't a surprise for him. I haven't been in a fight for three days because I wanted to look good for him. I also know that it's vanity and against all the things Mr. Durden has been trying to teach us, but this is a special case. We're not unique snowflakes, but impressing him makes me feel good, so it doesn't count.

I wrote a song for Tyler. I know I should call him Mr. Durden, but we're friends. Great friends. But still _only_ friends for fuck's sake… Anyway, the new song is kind of personal and I hope he likes it better than the first song which was about Fight Club. It was a really shitty song. I think Tyler doesn't like ballads as much as I do, so I tried something new. A harder style, I hope he defines it rock because that was what I was aiming for...

Again I lost my train of thought. I look at Tyler and he looks at me. Oh God, this is awkward…

"Uhm, did you notice the cake I made for you? I baked it."

_Shit._

"Now it's not my birthday."

_Fuck._ I totally screwed this up. Pick up a subject, pick up a subject, anything goes; just don't stay at this very awkward little moment when oh, fuck, the space monkeys are listening, too! Now I fucking hate them. I hate myself.

"There was oil coming through the gaskets, but I changed the oils and the filter. I checked the valves and the insulations. They said it was going to rain today so I changed the windshield wipers."

"What is Tyler planning on?"

What the hell? I open the ashtray and take out the lighter.

"Is this a test? Are you testing us?"

I try to sound as polite as possible when really I'm freaked out. What the hell is that man talking about?

"Where's Tyler?" he asks.

I think this really is a test, because if it isn't…

"The first rule of Fight Club is 'you do not talk about Fight Club.' And the last rule of Project Mayhem is that 'you do not ask questions.'"

"Well, what can you tell me?"

"You have to understand, that your father was a model of God to you."

This is what he wants to hear, right?

"If you are a Christian man who lives in America, your father was a model of God to you. And if you don't know your dad, if he has left you, he's dead or he's never home, what does that tell you about God that you believe in?"

Tyler doesn't answer. That's exactly how it's supposed to be, so I continue.

"So you end up looking for your dad and your God for the rest of your life."

He's still silent.

"You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. In fact, God hates us. And that's not the worst thing that could happen."

Tyler sits still, obviously sunken deep in his thoughts. I decide not to make a sound, just drive through the night. The weather has gotten worse, there's almost no sight on the road, just the backlights of the car in front of us. The cake on the seat between Tyler and me looks too happy for this weather, this atmosphere or anything that goes on in our minds. The space monkeys haven't said a word, which is good because I don't want them to distract Tyler's attention away from me- I mean, away from whatever he's thinking at the moment.

"Burn Louvre", I say, just to keep the space monkeys quiet, "and wipe your ass with _Mona Lisa_. That way God at least learns to know our names."

Tyler looks thoughtful.

"If the prodigal son hadn't ever left home, the calf would still be alive."

I don't know why I just said what I said. I guess Tyler really has infected me with his thoughts and now I repeat everything he believes in, which is a good thing.

I turn the car to the old beltway which has no passing line. There's a fine line of trucks behind us and I keep on driving as fast as the speed limits say, according to law. Oh, now I remember this thing I needed to tell Tyler, I hope he's impressed.

"Last week we could've had four Fight Clubs full of people. Maybe Big Bob could be the leader of a new section of Fight Club, if we find a suitable bar. I think I'm going through the rules with him next week so he can get his own Fight Club."

Tyler stays quiet for a moment. Then he looks at me.

"Who has made the new rules? Tyler?"

Again I'm confused. But I'll never show anything like that to him, so I just smile and say:

"I think you know who makes the rules. The new rule is that nobody's allowed to be the center of attention in Fight Club. The leader will walk around the crowd in Fight Club and shout the orders from the darkness. The men will have to look each other instead of a leader. That's the way it's going to work in all the Fight Clubs."

Tyler looks at me with his beautiful eyes and I have to focus on something else than him.

"Another new rule is that Fight Club is always free. Joining doesn't cost anything."

Tyler smiles a bit. That smile makes me wanna die, so I shout in the cold and rainy wind:

"We want you, not your money! As long as you are in Fight Club, you're not your bank account. You're not your job. You're not your family and you're not the one you tell yourself you are. You're not your name."

At this point one of the space monkeys gets wild and joins me.

"You're not your problems."

"You're not your problems!" I repeat into the night.

"You're not your age."

"You're not your age!"

Then I go to the oncoming cars line and the whole windshield is full of light. First one and then another one car approaches us and I just slightly avoid the crash. I feel alive.

"You're not your hopes!"

Nobody else shouts with me. The car in front of us turns away right before it would've crashed its hood and I shout some more.

"You won't be saved!"

Another car is coming.

"Some day we're all going to die!"

A car after another. They're trying to avoid the crash, but I want to feel the danger.

"Quickly, now", I say to Tyler and to the space monkeys. "What you wish you would've done in your life before you died?"

I turn my head to see Tyler's face. He's so gorgeous, God dammit…

"Ten seconds to the hit."

Silence.

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"My job", Tyler says, "I'd wanna quit my job."

Another car avoids our vehicle, but just with a few inches. I turn to face the space monkeys.

"Hey, space monkeys, this is how we play it. Do the job or we're all going to die."

A car goes by with a sticker: "Drunk-drivers against moms" and "Recycle all the animals". Tyler looks at them with a very confused look on his face so I decide to explain that yes, they all are a part of Project Mayhem. All the space monkeys remain silent. Suddenly the hot lighter pops off the dashboard. Hey, I forgot to light the candles…

"Hey, could you light the candles for me, please?" I ask Tyler. He takes the lighter and lights the candles but all that time I keep thinking how awesome it would be just to let go and do what I've always wanted to do…

"What you wish you would've done in your life before you died?" I ask and again some cars avoid the crash but just almost.

"Say your wishes quickly. We have five seconds to eternity."

"One."

"Two."

There's only one big truck in front of us.

"Three."

"Ride a horse", I hear from the backseat.

"Build a house", another space monkey says.

"Get a tattoo."

"Believe in me and you will be dying forever." These are my last words before a giant truck hits us. I stay curled up and clench the wheel under my hands so the car stays on the road. Then we all shout at the same low tone and for a minute I think we're dead. But if I am dead, why the hell I feel something heavy on my lap…?

Oh my God. _Oh my God! _This is not happening. Tyler Durden basically lays on me! Right now I feel so nervous that I could vomit. I just smile to him and he smiles back, though the smile's a little crooked because of our experience few seconds ago. I notice the stars in the sky. Could this get any more romantic?

"Happy birthday", I say, "you almost broke the wheel with your head."

Oh fuck. I bet Tyler thinks I'm completely fucked up, pathetic, stupid, irritating, childish…

"Where's the cake?" Tyler asks.

"On the floor", I answer and try not to freak out about the fact that his head is still on my lap. I mean, I wish he'd keep it there, just a little bit longer…

"Those candles", I say,"are fake, so you can never stamp them out."

Tyler looks at the little fires caused by the candles. His face is covered in pink cream and I just hope I could lick it off… I mean, wipe it away, of course. I keep on driving, ignoring the little voice in my head that's very persistent…

Fuck everything, who am I kidding anymore? Tyler has given me a reason to live. He has made me a stronger and better man; he has given me a different perspective of life. By letting me lose all the hope he has made me what I am. A fighter. And I'm going to fight for him.

***


End file.
